Spaghetti, tomato sauce
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In the northern suburb of Dijon
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I chose the diplomatic way
That kept me out of prison
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I've been hiding for 20 years
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And I thought I'd live way less
The protection of a witness
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I could've been busting rocks
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At the Texas penitentiary
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But I end up on beer
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In a way less classy PMU
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Every night they fill my glass
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And we laugh, they trash me
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When I tell my glass tricks
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Mafioso down to my fingertips
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I've become the local drunk
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While my uncle's henchmen
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In the first months of my hideout
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I thought my life would be the same
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By recreating what I miss
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From my American Sicily
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I helped a few acquaintances
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With their neighborhood feuds
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Two or three bodies soaked in gas
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A few domestic accidents
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Mafioso down to my fingertips
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I've become the local drunk
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While my uncle's henchmen
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Hunt Tony-two-fists
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When my little neighbors, brothers and sisters
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Showed me their report cards
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I'd meet their teacher
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And collect a few baby teeth
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But now I'm too old
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I look after my hydrangeas
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It's strange how they grow better
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What on earth did I bury there?
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In the bushes, something moves
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I spot a sniper's shadow
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On my chest a red light
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I expected you, I'm not scared
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Lay me down on my bed
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On my heart a hydrangea bloom
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I'm gonna see Stromboli again
I'm gonna forget the Mafia